I'm a firm believer that you're only as young as you feel...but inevitably I find myself falling into the same trap as everyone else: measuring my achievements, my disappointments, my wins and my losses by the years of my life.
Although, bit by bit, each passing year seems to chisel away the significance my birthday once held, I still found myself laying awake last night, thinking. Thinking about my life up until this very point, right now, and everything that might come after. Warning, before you continue reading; the following is more introspective and sentimental than my usual posts. Where have I been?
I should count myself as lucky; I've been a lot of places. I've swam in the Gulf of Thailand, I've joined the young and beautiful on Bondi Beach - I've even lived surrounded by walls built by the ancient Romans in England's cold north.
I have been running. Running away from something I was scared to give a name to. Running from the shadow of doubt that hangs over my life. Running from the fact that I don't know how I'm supposed to direct the course of the life that I have been
I have been searching; hoping that if I went far enough, long enough, I would eventually find what I was supposed to be looking for. Where am I now?
And now, for the first time in a long time, for the longest time in a long time, I have stopped. I have become surrounded by more quiet than ever before. I have stood in that quiet. I have anxiously despised that quiet. I have fought against that quiet, over and over. And now I have, at last, grown to accept the quiet. To let it be, and to be still within it. Well, not perfectly still - I am not a person who can ever really be completely still - but I have learned there is a kind of happiness in stillness, and a comfort in solitude.
And while combatting boredom has turned out to be perhaps the largest challenge during the past 8 months, confronting the quiet has been the best thing I have done for myself in a long time. I have learned, with no one to look to for reassurance, to answer my own questions, truly, for the first time. With all
of my life's distractions were removed, the mountains have corraled my wild spirit so that I can not ignore it anymore. Finally, I am confronting all that I was able to ignore before. Where am i going?
This question remains partially unanswered, as perhaps it always well. I still carry with me a deep, dark, green envy towards those who always knew what they wanted to do, set out to do it, and got it done.
Yet, although it is one of the greatest sources of fear in my life, it is also one of the greatest sources of joy that I do not know the answer to this question. It means life will never be predictable, and nothing will ever be set in stone. I know for a fact that if I had everything tied up in a neat little bow; actually there is no way that I could have every loose end tied up already. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Yes, for me, the joy is in the journey. I've come to a conclusion that fear and joy must exist together; perhaps they spur eachother on. In any case, it's a lovely note to begin the next year of my life with. If the joy is in the journey, then I have nothing but joy ahead, forever and always.
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